I panicked when I couldn't remove myself from Dominic. The more I shifted, the tighter he held.
It was seven, and the rush of fear came crashing in. "Let go... Please, let me go," I begged, breathing hard. I tried prying his arms off of me, but even in sleep, he held strong. "Please... let go."
Memories of Sara came back. The pain and fear. Being kicked, slapped, cut. Waking up with wounds on my body and dried blood. Tears slipped down my cheek, expecting the worst to come. "Dominic," I begged.
Sara would walk in any minute and yank me from the bed. She would hurt me.
Finally, he stirred. "Did you say my name?" His voice husky with sleep.
"I need to get up."
"Mmm, stay." His hold tightened.
My heart stirred. I couldn't. "Please..." I begged, counting to the sound of a bell in my head. Four... Five...
"Why? What's so important that you have to get up right now?"
"Please."
Six...
Finally, he looked at me and his brows furrowed. "Did I do something? Why do you look like you've been crying?" He sat up, leaning back against the headboard.
"You didn't do anything, I promise."
Seven...
"Then why were you crying?" He leaned forward, the muscles in his shoulder and neck becoming more prominent.
I shook my head back and forth, as if doing so would shake away my fear. "Scared."
Eight...
He leaned in closer, catching my face in his hands. "Of what, Violet? Me?" He asked, annoyance laced in his tone.
When I didn't answer he sighed deeply, and after a moment, he got out of bed, leaned over and then picked me up.
The bell stopped.
"I don't know what to do with you. I'm frustrated because you won't tell me what's going on, but you're so scared to even talk about it. It makes me mad because I can't do anything. I can't help you because I don't know how. You won't talk."
He set me down on my feet.
"I want to... I'm trying," I replied slowly, looking behind at the messy bed.
"I know. I'm impatient," he looked at me and then glanced to the bed. "If only I could read your mind... It'd make this easier. It'd make everything easier. I could know what you think about, it'd help me know you better," he grabbed my jaw, diverting my attention from the crazed sheets. "You're so quiet."
I looked up at him hesitantly. "I'll try to write."